


Bring It Home

by bloodyfandom



Category: NCIS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodyfandom/pseuds/bloodyfandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony hates those little moments of weakness – they always sneak up on him when he gets too comfortable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring It Home

He’s exhausted. He’s been gone for a whole week running down a perp with McGee who was fighting off the head cold from hell. Tony couldn’t even be mean to him. On day two, shacked up in a motel so crappy that calling it a hole in the wall would be a generous compliment, he’d made McGee condensed chicken soup in the coffee pot and cracked jokes about extra lives and healing potions, pulling from everything he knew about video games until McGee finally laughed and threw wadded up tissues at him. He’d pulled more than his weight on this case, letting McGee sleep while he drove, staying up late to look into new leads on his laptop. By the time they’ve got the guy cuffed and in their back seat, Tony is so tired he doesn’t even argue when McGee pushes him towards the passenger side door. He sleeps the entire way back to D.C. and sleepily accepts the coffee McGee hands him from the drive-thru coffee shop as they near headquarters.  
  
It’s just enough to get him upstairs and behind his desk. He doesn’t bother watching the interrogation; he sets straight to writing his report and waiting for the inevitable confirmation of what they already know.  
  
The report pings into Gibbs’ inbox twenty minutes later and Tony hits ‘print’, leaning back in his chair.  
  
He doesn’t even remember shutting his eyes but McGee is shaking him awake which means he not only closed his eyes, he fell asleep. Tony hates those little moments of weakness – they always sneak up on him when he gets too comfortable.  
  
“I’ll make sure your report gets where it needs to go,” McGee smiles, nose only a little red from blowing it incessantly, “Gibbs got Richards to confess and we found out he had an accomplice, Private Roger Aaron. He’s out at sea right now; Gibbs is up with the Director in MTAC…go home, Tony. Get some sleep.”  
  
Tony glares at him a little, “Why are you being so nice?”  
  
“Because you made me soup,” McGee sighs, smacking the back of Tony’s head, “Now get out of here.”  
  
“I only did that because you were being whiny,” Tony protests.  
  
“Sure, Tony. Night.”  
  
Yawning, Tony grabs up his coat and trudges downstairs to his car. He makes it home on auto-pilot, blinking as he stares up at his apartment building, not even remembering the specifics of how exactly he got there.  
  
With another jaw-cracking yawn he stumbles up to his unit, eyes heavily lidded as he opens the door and heads for the couch. It’s all he can manage to just toe off his shoes before collapsing onto the cushions.  
  
Except there are no cushions.   
  
There are no cushions because there is no couch.  
  
Tony hits the floor with a thud and a surprised shout. He blinks at the ceiling for a moment and then sits up; suddenly awake as he peers around at his empty apartment.  
  
Scrambling to his feet, Tony looks around with wide eyes. Everything’s gone. His flat screen, his DVDs. As he moves through the house he feels sucker-punched. They didn’t even leave any toilet paper.  
  
It takes him a minute to realize his phone is ringing and he flips it open just before it goes to voicemail.  
  
“Hello?” he rasps.  
  
“Tony?” Gibbs queries from the other end, sounding a little concerned.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“You alright?”  
  
“…somebody stole all my stuff, Gibbs,” Tony chokes out in devastated shock.  
  
There’s a long pause and then with a sigh, Gibbs says, “Come home, Tony. We’ll sort it out in the morning.”  
  
Tony’s so numb that he doesn’t even argue – he doesn’t pick up on the fact that Gibbs called his house ‘home’ like Tony belongs there either. Usually a comment like that would have had Tony smiling like an idiot but right now he can barely even function.  
  
He’s exhausted still, he might be in actual shock – his hands are shaking and he feels like he can’t completely breathe – and the last week is finally catching up with him.  
  
When he walks in the door, Gibbs is already there and he immediately wrestles Tony’s coat off of his broad shoulders.  
  
“…where are your shoes?”  
  
Tony glances down and then over his shoulder, “…I guess I forgot to put them back on.”  
  
Gibbs stares at him for a moment, frowning and then shakes his head, grabbing Tony’s face and kissing him soundly.  
  
“Go in the living room.”  
  
For a moment Tony doesn’t comprehend – the living room is only where he sleeps when he’s on the losing side of an argument but he does as he’s told and stumbles to a stop when he gets to the doorway.  
  
There’s his couch, sitting prominently where Gibbs’ old moth-eaten model used to be. There are also boxes, labeled with precise scrawl proclaiming things like “DVDs” and “living room”.  
  
“But…I don’t…” Tony fumbles for the words as he turns around.  
  
Gibbs sighs, “Didn’t mean for you to leave before I did. Was gonna bring you straight here.”  
  
Shaking his head, Tony exhales unsteadily, “I’m either going to throw up or start crying.”  
  
Eyes going briefly wide, Gibbs backs Tony up onto the couch where Tony immediately curls in on himself, putting his head between his legs. Gibbs starts rubbing circles on his back and murmuring soothing nonsense.  
  
“I thought somebody cleaned me out,” Tony grinds out, “You couldn’t tell me over the phone?”  
  
“Sorry,” Gibbs mutters, kissing Tony’s shoulder.  
  
“What the hell were you thinking moving my stuff without telling me anyway?”  
  
Gibbs raises an eyebrow, “…I’m sick of you pretending you live in that shit hole.”  
  
“So you just decided I was moving in with you?” Tony seethes, all the exhaustion and stress and worry of the last week finally getting to him.  
  
“Thought you’d be happy about it,” Gibbs shrugs, looking a little hurt.  
  
And a week ago - hell, even three days ago – Tony would have been happy. He would’ve been delirious. Today he’s barely even able to keep himself from punching Gibbs in the face.  
  
“Let’s just go to bed,” he grinds out with disgust.  
  
“Shouldn’t go to bed angry.”  
  
“I…!” Tony stops himself, “I’m so tired, Gibbs. You cannot possibly ask me to be rational when I am this tired. Plus, I’m pretty sure that coming home to a completely empty apartment put me into an actual, medical state of shock for a while.”  
  
Gibbs eyes flick towards the floor, mouth pressed into a grim line and brow furrowed. He worries his lower lip and then stands up, hauling Tony close. With a tenderness that Tony’s still getting used to, he kisses Tony and hugs him tight.  
  
“We go to bed I’m not staying on my side,” Gibbs warns.  
  
“Fine, as long as I’m horizontal I don’t care.”  
  
Extricating himself from Gibbs grasp, Tony somehow manages to drag himself upstairs, shedding clothes carelessly as he goes. He’s dimly aware of Gibbs picking up after him, of Gibbs following, but he’s beyond caring.  
  
In the doorway he pauses, staring at his own bed there taking up the space where Gibbs’ own lumpy mattress used to reside.  
  
Suddenly he’s overwhelmed, a knot in his throat choking him as he reaches blindly behind him for Gibbs who obligingly steps closer.  
  
Kissing him hard, Tony feels some of the tension break inside of him.  
  
“It was a really dumb way to do it,” Tony insists, voice trembling.  
  
“But?”  
  
“I’m glad you did.”  
  
“Bed,” Gibbs rumbles.  
  
Tony crawls under the covers and Gibbs follows soon after, wrapping around Tony from behind.  
  
“Got us the next two days off,” Gibbs says in his ear, kissing it, “Sleep in if you want.”  
  
Turning over and pressing close, Tony breathes in Gibbs’ scent deeply, body relaxing.  
  
“…I think you should make pancakes tomorrow.”  
  
“Yeah?” Gibbs chuckles.  
  
“Yeah. To celebrate.”  
  
“Ok,” Gibbs grins, kissing Tony softly.  
  
“Seriously though Gibbs, if you pull some weird shit like this again I’m going to hurt you,” Tony growls, nowhere near awake enough to sound threatening, “Like if you ever ask me to marry you…I want it nice and boring and traditional.”  
  
“Down on one knee in a restaurant with our friends hiding two booths over?”  
  
Tony pries one eye open, “Minus the friends and the restaurant.”  
  
“I was just going to leave the ring next to your plate of pancakes tomorrow morning.”  
  
“I’m seriously too tired to tell if you’re kidding,” Tony pouts.  
  
Taking pity on him, Gibbs smiles and kisses him again.  
  
“Go to sleep, Tony.”  
  
Snuggling in closer, Tony yawns one last time.  
  
“I love you.”  
  
“Love you too, Gibbs,” he murmurs before finally letting sleep drag him under.  
  
Gibbs’ eyes flit over to the ring case sitting on the dresser and he smiles to himself, pressing a final kiss to Tony’s lips before closing his eyes.  
  
Settling into Tony’s arms his house finally feels like home again.


End file.
